Looking for a Sign

A sermon for the Second Sunday after Christmas
January 4, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Jeremiah 31:7-14; Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a; Matthew 2:1-12

This past week I visited my parents in Missouri for Christmas. It has become a custom of ours that before I leave, they take me to breakfast. This time they took me to a country restaurant, one of those where everything is covered in gravy, with pancakes that are 14 inches across. True to form, the restaurant is covered with rustic decorations: license plates, street signs, just about everything under the sun. Across from where we were sitting that morning was a metal sign, not very big, that said, “if you’re looking for a sign, this is it.” I wondered how many people saw that sign with its catchphrase and thought, “aha, there it is!” Reason enough to make things right, to reconnect, to keep going. There’s my sign. 

This morning we read Matthew’s account of the magi who visit Jesus from the east. These Persian astrologers have been looking for a sign. They have been scanning the heavens for a divine clue that something is happening. So they tell King Herod today: “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” If you’re looking for a sign, this is it, bright in the heavens. We read that Herod inquires of the scholars, who tell him that the Messiah is to be born in Bethlehem. It’s interesting, I think. The wise men do not ask about the Messiah; they ask about one who is born to be king. Herod, afraid of threats to his power, connects the dots. And yet that is exactly who the magi find: no ordinary king, but the Messiah, the King of Kings in human form. 

Greg had been looking for a sign. Like a lot of people, I suppose. He may have been one of those who would have taken heart at the corny sign in the country restaurant. He was that desperate for a sign from the heavens, for some clear spark that would show him how to go on. Like the magi, he had been on a journey for a long time. Unlike the magi, he didn’t feel it had gone well. He had no sense of direction. Have you ever been like Greg, looking for some sign, just a small guidepost to point you in the right direction? 

Greg’s life over the last five years had been hard. His spouse had been diagnosed with cancer; it was terminal. She died after a couple of years of intense caregiving. After the funeral, Greg looked around. He had cut himself off from the world during that time. He had to; he had a calling to care, and he had lost touch. His close friends had moved off; his family was small and far away–they weren’t really close anyway. Greg began to sink into a deep depression, a despair. It hits harder around the holidays. He felt completely alone, even abandoned.

Greg had been looking for a sign, a star at its rising. A sign that would help him go on, that would tell him he was not alone, that would give him hope. He hadn’t found any, but he thought he would go check once more. It was Christmas Eve, and he went for a walk. It was cold–bitter cold. He had not dressed warm enough. He popped into a church in the middle of Christmas Eve service. He sat on the back pew during the sermon. He was not interested in church; he just needed to warm up. The sermon ended; the prayers were said; and then suddenly, the sign appeared. “The peace of the Lord be always with you.” People stood up; they started shaking hands and hugging; people he didn’t know came over to him. “Peace be with you,” they said. “Merry Christmas,” they said. “Greg, I am glad to see you!” He heard the greeting over the noise. It was the voice of his late wife’s hospice nurse. “I am glad to see you! Merry Christmas!” He gave Greg a hug. And the despair lifted for a moment, and mourning turned to joy, and peace came. If you’re looking for a sign, Greg, here it is. You’re not alone. You are loved. You are worth so much that the Son of God has come for you, and he is present even now, even in this imperfect body of believers. 

Like the magi, Greg had not been looking for the Messiah. He had been looking for a warm spot before he continued his walk. But he met the Son of God; he met the Body of Christ; he was embraced by the Church, who showed him just how much he was loved. 

“[God] destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved.” We read that from Ephesians this morning. If you’re looking for a sign today, here it is. You have been chosen by the God of the Universe who loves you. You are God’s child, and his glorious grace has been freely bestowed on you–not because you are worthy, not because you have proven yourself, not because you are perfect, but only because you are loved. You have a real hope. It is not a hope based on a cheap sign in a country restaurant or mere optimism. It is not a hope based on anything that passes away in this world. It is a hope that sustains, for it is born of the One who came for us, who died for us, who rose again so that we might have new life, today and forever. This is a hope that is stronger than the grave; stronger than despair; stronger than the power of sin. This is the hope of Christmas: that God is with us now, and he will never let us go. And he asks not for gold, frankincense, or myrrh. God asks only for your heart. 

Merry 11th Day of Christmas.